


worth your weight in gold

by portions_forfox



Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portions_forfox/pseuds/portions_forfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she never said that it's forgotten; you and her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worth your weight in gold

**Author's Note:**

> lol @ my life, this show's been canceled. whyyyyy do all my shows have to do that to me!! it's reached the point where i'm like, oh, i like it, so it makes sense that it's going off the air. because that is just my luck, you guys! um, so, anyway. i wrote this before that news came out, and it was for [](http://streussal.livejournal.com/profile)[**streussal**](http://streussal.livejournal.com/)'s prompt at [](http://fluffyfrolicker.livejournal.com/profile)[**fluffyfrolicker**](http://fluffyfrolicker.livejournal.com/)'s [women ficathon](http://fluffyfrolicker.livejournal.com/35323.html), _such selfish prayers // and i can't get enough._

First he said: “Does he tell you you are exquisite?” And she gives him a look.

Then he said: “Because you are.” And he opened his lips—“Exquisite.”

And in her head she’s thinking, _Freddie—_

 

 

 

Bel’s always saying, “Why can’t you two just get along?” (her hand running through her hair, the exasperated thread to the edge of her voice.) “Behave like adults for once, you.”

And at first Freddie thinks it’s prim tailored suits and crisp black bowties, knife smiles and bad marks and lots of paper-thin money, the smell of it, the _presence_ of it, heavy in the air. Freddie hates privilege. He really does.

But then he starts to see (it starts to shift), he starts to think it’s sideways smiles tossed across the room and shadows hovering bound together behind the cameras and fingers lingering at pulse points just a moment too long.

“I love her more than you,” he tells Hector once, the open hallway, echoes, dark. These linoleum floors do wonders for confessions.

Hector opens his mouth, his careful knife teeth aligned in perfection and Freddie can’t _take_ it, can’t _listen_ to this—he grabs Hector by the collar and grunts “Say something _real_ for once, Hector. Say something true to me now.”

Hector closes his mouth. His black eyes soften and smirk behind the veil—“I’ve no doubt you do,” he says.

 

 

 

(“And I’d appreciate if you’d shut up about it from now on,” he whispers, “as it’s rather a burden to deal with.”

“I’m never going to,” Freddie breathes, heavy, his hands gripping Hector’s tie, _tear the fabric please let the fabric tear_ “I’m never going to stop reminding you that you don’t deserve her, that you don’t love her enough, that you are everything for which I stand against and everything for which she will one day realize—”

Hector kisses him then. With teeth.)

 

 

 

“She loves me more than you,” Hector hisses into Freddie’s neck, fucking him into the cold hard mattress; “and I’m never going to stop reminding you.”

 

 

 

(On the night that Hector danced with her, Bel was warm and bright and drifting away, this golden lifeline of a woman clinging softly to his shoulders. He presses kisses to her forehead and she smiles into his lips and in her head she’s thinking, _Freddie—_ )


End file.
